Slow Reaction
by M83
Summary: It's a combination of Degrassi and Fight Club. Remember everything you know about Craig Manning and Degrassi? Forget it. It won't help you here. Just humor me people and read it!
1. The Coward

Slow Reaction  
  
Bren Eldrid Bera  
  
Disclaimer: Degrassi belongs to the people of Degrassi, Fight Club belongs to Mr. Palahniuk, Odin in his own nature.  
  
Rated: R for violence and language.  
  
What I have done: Combined Degrassi with a rendition of Fight Club. Remember everything you know about Craig Manning and Degrassi? Forget it. It won't help you here!  
  
*Sigh* Once again, I have shaped Degrassi into my own demented world! *Shouts: Damn you Loki! Damn you to Nifleim! You have corrupted my mind!*  
  
Warning: The manufacture and/or possession of explosives and explosive devices are illegal without proper federal, state, and local authorization. (In the U.S., I am not sure about other places.) Oh yeah, props to: http://www.piracy.com/filez/terror.hb. A most awesome website but I wouldn't suggest trying anything! ;)  
  
=================  
  
Mat was going to kill me.  
  
The blade was pressed against my throat. He was ready to die. Some would say that he was the coward. He was running away from his problems.  
  
But I wasn't ready to die. I, Craig Manning, did not have the courage to die. I was the coward. So Mat was the hero.  
  
Some might not call him that. He was the one who had murdered all of those people, those innocent children.  
  
I had asked him about that.  
  
He said that children were never innocent. They were all duplicitous little whores who should be struck from the face of the earth. These little bastards would grow. Not in the mind, but in the body. So when they died after a long-lived life, they were still children. It was the children who turned out the Clintons, the Ladens, and the Kennedys. With there greed, lust, and deceit.  
  
They were the beginnings of the downfall of society. They never thought of the mass or of the 'greater good', only of themselves. They were weak. Dependent. Insignificant. That was why all the children must all die.  
  
I didn't understand what he had meant at the time. But now, with the blade up against my throat, I think I might get it. We ourselves were children. Both merely fifteen.  
  
He had been an outcast of society. The children he so hatefully talked about rejected him. They had welcomed me though. That was probably why I had the blade to my throat.  
  
There was a loud 'BANG' noise, and then maniacal laughter could be heard throughout the halls. That would be the Committee of Misconduct at work. It was something Mat had started as revenge for the shit he had been dealt. They would completely ravage Degrassi Community School by the end of the day.  
  
And how? The usual force, baseball bats, etc. But the committee had something special too. Ammonium triiodide crystals.  
  
Ammonium triiodide crystals are foul smelling purple colored crystals that decompose under the slightest amount of heat, friction, or shock, if they are made with the purest ammonia (ammonium hydroxide) and iodine. Such crystals are said to detonate when a fly lands on them, or when an ant walks across them.  
  
Upon detonation, a loud noise is heard, and a cloud of purple iodine gas appears about the detonation site. Whatever the unfortunate surface that the crystal was detonated upon would be ruined. It leaves nasty, ugly, permanent brownish-purple stains on whatever it contacts.  
  
Iodine gas was also bad news, since it can damage lungs, and it settles to the ground and stains things there also.  
  
To use them, you simply throw them against any surface or place them where they will be stepped on or crushed.  
  
Touching iodine leaves brown stains on the skin that last for about a week, unless they are immediately and vigorously washed off. The Committee members had to be very careful. But that was their job.  
  
Making ammonium triiodide crystals was actually rather easy. It was a simple seven-step process...  
  
1. Put an amount of iodine into a jar. The jar must both be throw away because they will never be clean again.  
  
2. Add enough ammonia to completely cover the iodine.  
  
3. Place the funnel into another jar, and put the filter paper in the funnel. The technique for putting filter paper in a funnel is taught in every basic chemistry lab class.  
  
4. Allow the iodine to soak in the ammonia for a while. Pour the solution into the paper in the funnel through the filter paper.  
  
5. While the solution is being filtered, put more ammonia into the first jar to wash any remaining crystals into the funnel.  
  
6. Collect all the purplish crystals without touching the brown filter paper, and place them on the paper towels to dry for a period of time.  
  
7. After they dry, put them on a piece of duct tape, and cover them with another. Press the duct tape together around the crystal, making sure not to press the crystal itself.  
  
8. Store the crystals in a cool dry safe place. They have a shelf life of about a week, and they should be stored in individual containers that can be thrown away, since they have a tendency to slowly decompose, a process which gives off iodine vapors, which will stain whatever they settle on. One possible way to increase their shelf life is to store them in airtight containers.  
  
How did I know this? Mat knew this.  
  
The Committee didn't realize this, but what they were doing was a doomed failure. They thought they would go down as legends, each of their names hatefully remembered, but still remembered. They were destroying Degrassi. They were causing general misconduct, and thus the name. The Misconduct Committee  
  
But what they had done would be greatly overshadowed by Mat. He hadn't told them everything. He hadn't even told me everything. Mat was of his own, but still of me. People knew everything and nothing about Mat. I knew everything and nothing of Mat.  
  
What was Mat going to do? Mat was going to blow up the school.  
  
He was going to annihilate it; Mat had placed nitroglycerin around all around the school. How had a fifteen-year-old boy obtained nitroglycerin? Simple. Mat had made the nitroglycerin in his very own bathroom.  
  
1. Place an amount of distilled water into one of the beakers.  
  
2. In the other beaker, place another amount of distilled water and an amount of sodium bicarbonate, and stir them until the sodium bicarbonate dissolves.  
  
3. Create an ice bath by half filling the ice bath container with ice.  
  
4. Place another beaker into the ice bath, and pour the concentrated nitric acid into the beaker  
  
5. When the nitric acid is cold, slowly and carefully add concentrated sulfuric acid to the nitric acid. Mix the two acids together, and cool the mixed acids.  
  
6. With the eyedropper, slowly put the glycerin into the mixed acids, one drop at a time. DO NOT ALLOW THE TEMPERATURE TO GET ABOVE 30 DEGREES CENTIGRADE; IF THE TEMPERATURE RISES ABOVE THIS TEMPERATURE, RUN LIKE HELL!!!  
  
7. Stir the mixed acids and glycerin for the first ten minutes of nitration, adding ice.  
  
8. When the reaction is over, slowly and carefully pour the solution of nitroglycerin and mixed acid into the distilled water in the beaker in step 1.  
  
9. Carefully remove the nitroglycerin with a clean eyedropper, and place it into the beaker in step 2.  
  
10. When the nitroglycerin is as acid-free as possible, store it in a clean container in a safe place. The best place to store nitroglycerin is far away from anything living, or from anything of any value. Nitroglycerin can explode for no apparent reason, even if it is stored in a secure cool place.  
  
How did I know this? Mat knew this after the many hours of mistakes and failure.  
  
There was another 'CRASHING' sound. More laughter. The Misconduct Committee was really taking advantage of those ammonium triiodide crystals.  
  
Mat was shaking his head. "Children," Mat says, "they are behaving like children." That was beside the fact that they were children. Boys really, although Mat may have called them his men.  
  
Better go and get them, I say. Teach them about real the heroes.  
  
But Mat wouldn't move. I knew his plan and that was dangerous. He was going to detonate the nitroglycerin, blow up the school, everyone within it and probably for a 100-yard radius, and effectively kill him and me. That was what he wanted. Destruction. Death. He was courageous. I was the coward.  
  
All that was stopping him from doing it right now was Emma. She was his weakness, his passion, and his love. And she didn't even know that he existed.  
  
I felt the knife press harder to my throat.  
  
I, Craig Manning, was the coward. 


	2. The Liar

Slow Reaction

Bren Eldrid Bera

Disclaimer: Degrassi belongs to the people of Degrassi, Fight Club belongs to Mr. Palahniuk, Odin in his own nature.

Rated: R for violence and language. 

What I have done: Combined Degrassi with a rendition of Fight Club. Remember everything you know about Craig Manning and Degrassi? Forget it. It won't help you here! 

I didn't know how to fit the entire support group chapter into Craig's world so, just bare with me! Also, do not attempt any of the following!

=================

I was in the basement of the Church of Christ and we were holding hands, Mary, and I. Mary said she came here because of late, life wasn't treating her well.

She had tried to commit suicide by slashing her wrists. She did it wrong. You are supposed to follow the veins upwards. You get a quicker death that way. She got caught. Now, every Wednesday night, she came here, to the church basement for support. 

We were at a support group for psychotic. You know... the kleptos, the pyros, the anorexic, etc. They didn't say that they were psychos though. The leader said this support group was for "troubled teens".

If by troubled you mean emotionally unstable, who with the slightest push could commit suicide, sure go ahead. Call them troubled.

Everyone else was here because they were "troubled", but I wasn't. I was in the basement of the Church of Christ because I could let go. I could feel emotions. 

It started a year ago. The sign outside had promised free food. I came. I saw. I cried. For the first time since my mother died I was able to cry. I actually cared about something.

There was something about accepting the fact that people cared. I could do that here, surrounded by Bob, Mary, and Joe. A racist, a suicidal, and a pyro. They told their stories, we listened together, we learned together, and we held hands and cried together. 

But one night a week wasn't really enough. I branched out to other support groups. In other churches, synagogues, and temples. I started to go to exclusive groups too. Exclusively for the depressed, the addicted, the 

Almost every night in the week I had a place to go and listen to...

'Hi, my name is Jane. Three months ago, I was told I suffered from an anxiety disorder.'

And...

'Hello, I'm John. I burn myself with fire.'

And...

'Travis. I don't give a shit about this, and when my time is up, I am fucking leaving. I never should of stoled that car! This shit is messed!'

So I listened to the Janes, Johns, and Travis' and I realized my life wasn't as bad as I thought.

Maybe I don't have to pick up that knife. Maybe I don't have to kill myself.

And I was almost 'cured'. I finally could let emotions go. Then she showed up.

She introduced herself ecstatically. "Hi, I'm Emma Nelson!" This was at 'Abused Teens'. 

The next night, at Stress Management, "Hi, I'm Emma Nelson!" Same cheerfulness.

And the next night, at a meeting for teens with divorced parents, "Hi, I'm Emma Nelson.

Everywhere I went. "Hi, I'm Emma Nelson!"

Liar. Faker.

She didn't have a depression. She didn't cut herself. She didn't have a learning disorder.

She went to meetings, smug look on her face, as if she is higher, then everyone else. I would love to wipe it off of her. Punch her in the gut a few times. Show her pain.

Liar. Faker.

She didn't have test anxiety, she didn't have bulimia. 

What's worse, her lie reflected my lie. I didn't have any of the symptoms I claimed either.

I stopped focusing on the message of the meeting and more in Emma Nelson. I would arrive to the meetings depressed, and leave depressed once again. I had started to stop feeling.

Now I want to pick up that razor blade for good reason. Emma Nelson.

Next time I see her... I will strangle her. Wrap my fingers around her ivory-like neck and suck out all life out of her. Yeah... That is what I would do. I would send Emma Nelson a message.

=================

Hey people! I have a brilliant idea! How about, you read and review this story. Then I will read you reviews, and feel positive about myself. Then maybe, after being interested in the reviewer, I would go and read their story and leave reviews! Then they would read my reviews and then my stories and leave more reviews. It could be a worldwide thing!

Oh wait. Such a thing already exists. Or does it? Has this site become one big posting site, where nobody reads anybody else's stories and expects them to read their stuff? I hope not!


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